Eighteen
by Mad Girl With A Fanfic Account
Summary: Eighteen years old is too young to die. A sort-of not-really retelling of the Hobbit book/movie from Kili's perspective, written after I found out that he's the equivalent of an eighteen-year-old human and I got sad. MAJOR BOOK AND MOVIE SPOILERS


_So I just figured out that Kili is the equivalent of an eighteen-year-old human which made me sad. A combination of sleep deprivation and these sudden Kili feels resulted in a super-artsy all-lower-case very dramatised retelling of the Hobbit from Kili's perspective sort of. It's sort of an overlap of the book and movie because forgot which was which because I have a terrible memory I was just feeling sad for him okay I don't even know what I'm writing anymore go away_

_If I owned the Hobbit it would probably be full of random torture and everyone would be sobbing 100% of the time because of emotional trauma so draw your own conclusions._

* * *

**enter**

eighteen years old. only eighteen years old. eighteen years old and you already jumped at the opportunity to prove yourself to someone who just entered your life. you have your big brother, the other side of the coin that is both of you. you're only eighteen. you have to prove yourself, prove yourself to your brother and your uncle and everyone around you, because the quest may have been different for the others, but for you it was simple - show them that you can be worth it.

**howls**

sometimes you just want to be seventy-seven, just want to be eighteen. and when your brother is laughing with you you have a smile that means you're invincible, because he's the responsible one, the older one, the better one. and if he's laughing then in some ways you're equals, the equals that you pretend to be but never feel. sometimes you feel reckless because you don't know how to prove yourself you if you aren't. but every time you are, every time you try and show that you can be worth it, there's always your uncle who's been through more then you can imagine and is always there to tell you _no, you're not good enough. _and then you apologise, but you both know that you're not sorry for what you said, you're sorry because you're still not good enough, never good enough. and all you were doing was being eighteen, just eighteen.

**height**

you're on a mountaintop and the ground is breaking beneath your feet. you can hear your brother scream your name but all there is is rainfall and rocks and fear, fear as you have never known it. and for a few seconds, you were given a taste of what it would be like to be alone.

**arrows**

your uncle comes to you when the need arises, but never for you. he comes for your eyesight or your speed or your arrows, but never once has he approached _you. _you've saved his life, you've saved all of their lives, but somehow it's the arrows he thanks, it's the arrows that did everything good you've ever done.

sometimes all you want to do is take each of your arrows and snap them all in half.

**caves**

you're trapped, and in that moment you are all equals, you and your brother and your uncle and everybody because you're all about to die screaming. all you have left is pride, pride that was beaten down by your uncle while your brother tried to hold it back up, so you just stare at them as if daring them to do something, as if they weren't seizing your only weapons, as if they weren't wheeling in torture instruments right now. because right now it's all you've got left.

**fire**

you're all about to die, all clinging to the edge. but somehow your uncle is still fighting, still hanging on to his last threads of dignity, but he's losing, he's fading fast. and then a spark of hope comes and it gives you the strength, and suddenly you've forgotten the precipice and the fire and the pain and all that matters is protecting your uncle like he has always protected you.

**battlefield **

you're probably wondering how you got into this, how all you ever really wanted was to prove yourself to your uncle and show that you could be your brother's equal and now you're standing on a battlefield and there's blood and chaos and fear and you don't know what to do except keep fighting, keep fighting until the end. prove yourself to your uncle, prove yourself to your uncle. the world blurs and now your uncle is lying on the ground, but he can't be dead, can't be dead, can't be gone. and you still haven't proven yourself to him, haven't shown that you're worth it yet.

**fin**

there's probably screaming, probably tears and pain and blood. and then your brother lies beside your uncle, and you've just watched him die and half of you dies with him. or perhaps you are the first to go and he's the one screaming, he's the one who was just broken in two. it doesn't matter. you have failed. all that matters is in a few hours, or perhaps just a few minutes, both sides of the bloodstained coin lie on the ground.

eighteen years old is too young to die.


End file.
